Password Retrieval
by A Scribbler of Hobbiton
Summary: Perhaps the dwarf Narvi had made a mistake in setting the password for the West-gate of Moria. Indeed, now that he looks back on it standing outside in howling winds, that was very, very grave mistake of utmost stupidity. How hard can it be to remember some elusive Elvish word that starts with "M"?


Disclaimer: This is in no way an attempt to infringe on the copyright of Tolkien Estate, only a random idea that sprang out of stone.

To be precise, this story was inspired by Fiondil's story, "MAGIC: The Password" that can be found in the site Stories of Arda about new-fangled technology and the poor elven-king.

Reviews are always welcome!

~O~

The storm loomed across the sky as the wind picked up while the snow began, and standing outside of the West-gate of Moria, one could see that the dwarf Narvi was entirely displeased. In fact, displeased may actually be too light of a description for his utter and complete outrage. After all, forgetting the password to Moria is not a very pleasant experience when the winds are howling and the storm begins to set in.

"If you do not open right this moment, I will... I..." trailed off one very peeved dwarf who ran dry of threats suitable for the intimidation of doors.

Perhaps hurling insults at a door may not be the wisest course of action, but it must nevertheless be considered that Narvi had been camped outside of the door for what seemed like ages, racking his brains for the password that had eluded him for quite some time. Adding insult to injury, these were the very doors that he himself had created, having spent years creating these very masterpieces that were currently driving Narvi mad through their deliberate contrariness.

The walls of Moria may be grand, especially as the moonlight reflects off of the shining water. The stars above may be wondrous in their fair light and beauty. The soft rustle of leaves and the patter of scattered pebbles under a bright, though cloudy, night were indicators of a wonderful scenery and a pleasant night under the sky had it not been for the storm coming quickly in.

Who was he fooling? Everything would be perfectly fine if only these blasted doors would open!

"All right. All right! ALL RIGHT! It can't be too difficult to guess the password. Just think!" muttered Narvi pacing back and forth before the door.

"Khazad-dum?"

"Dwarrowdelf?"

"Moria!"

"No, not quite. How about 'open'?"

"Enter?"

"Close!?"

Momentarily stumped, Narvi sat back to gather his wits, and it was about here that the dwarf made an astounding breakthrough.

"Ah! I remember it's elvish! So think elvish! Elves... very strange creatures. Very strange indeed. How does one follow the thought processes of such flighty beings? They seem enjoy plants, so tree?... Leaf... Grass... Bush... Flowers?"

It may have been his imagination, but Narvi was certain that the doors were secretly snickering at his repeated failures. Doors, can be very unpleasant when they try. In fact, doors have been known for smirking at those who smash their fingers in the cracks, those who have the doors slammed in their faces, those who run into the doors, and the list goes on. Very unkind of them, but there was nothing else to do at this point. It's not every day that doors get to point and laugh at their own creator who had forgotten the password.

After pointlessly trying just about every plant name that he could think of, ranging from snapdragons to oak trees, the dwarf pointedly glared at the doors and sat down in a huff.

Sooner or later, Narvi began to doze off as his mind clouded over and his head started to nod. It had been a long night under the stars. A very long night for glaring at a set of unmoving doors. Understandably, the dwarf needed a few moment for his brain to start working again.

Through bleary eyes and a befuddled brain, Narvi barely saw a pair of boots pass through the edge of his field of vision. Another dwarf, also returning home by this route. He must know the password! But his half-asleep mind was too slow to react as a Dwarvish voice called out something close to "Mbrlmn" (as far as Narvi could hear) and passed through the opening doors.

Alas! Narvi shot up with a start and leapt to his feet only to find that he was too late as when his mind finally processed the information, the doors were closing with a final, ominous boom.

"May the hinges on these thrice-accursed doors eternally squeak!" exploded a very, very irked Narvi, who had just lost a chance to get into Moria, return home, and promptly forget this entire fiasco. Instead, he had just gained the mightily helpful lead of "Mbrlmn" to help his futile search for the password. Sighing, the dwarf turned around to begin anew.

"Mallorn?" asked Narvi tentatively.

"Mithril?"

"Metal!?"

"MELON?"

The doors remained obstinately closed.

Throwing his hands in the air, Narvi was moments from taking his axe to the beautiful door when the same door began sniggering. Out loud. It is not everyday that doors laugh aloud at unfortunate dwarves so Narvi was just a mite startled. All right, he jumped. A foot into the air.

"Did that door just have the gall to laugh at me? Is that a challenge, you... you door!" Narvi spluttered. With smoke near streaming from his ears, he could nearly, just nearly, pass for a dragon. Not that it helped much.

But in reply, clear words started forming on the surface of the doors.

'It is not very often that a dwarf forgets the password to Moria. Do forgive me for my clearly unwanted mirth.' appeared in radiant letters, 'But in case you wish to know, being a door can be very dull indeed. There is not much to do. Other than laughing at unwary travelers, that is.

The door's consideration served only to aggravate the dwarf even further, if that was even possible.

"I thank you very much for your touching concern for me," fumed a steaming dwarf, "Confusticate and bebother this door! Why don't you just tell me the password and save me a whole minecart of trouble?"

There was no answer. Doors, after all, can only withstand a very limited amount of abuse.

"That is IT! Celebrimbor is going to inscribe the password right onto this door! Do you hear me? With very clear directions to top it all!" all but screamed Narvi, "I will not be defeated by a mere door!"

~O~

"Aha!"

With a relieved laugh, Gandalf grabbed his staff and leapt up, assuming an "I-totally-knew-the-entire-time" expression.

In truth, Gandalf had all but forgotten the lost tale of Narvi's most unfortunate mishap until his wandering mind had finally alighted upon this hidden gem of wisdom. The wizard's memories are long and many, but buried beneath the knowledge of many, many centuries, Gandalf still remembered hearing of the entire fiasco and snickering for a very long time afterwards. But all hilarity aside, it was about time to forestall Pippin's quarter hourly question of "Have you quite remembered yet, Gandalf?".

"Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer. [1]"

Pausing for dramatic effect, Gandalf hoped upon every star above Middle Earth that he was right in his recollection, for if the password was written on the door, then it could only be...

"Mellon!"

Slowly, in a space of time that seemed to be another eternity, the doors opened to reveal the yawning chasm of darkness leading at last to the fallen kingdom of Khazad-dum.

"Quickly!" cried Gandalf as he hurried the rest of the Fellowship into the Mines.

And as the doors were slammed shut, plunging the Fellowship in darkness, Gandalf was sure that he could hear, fainter than a whisper, a little snickering coming from the doors of Moria.

~O~

[1] - Line taken directly from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , "A Journey in the Dark"


End file.
